Feral
by iNTR3PiD
Summary: A birthday present to all of my readers. A routine night for Spider-man turns into much more when he encounters the Black Cat. Their taxing lifestyles begin to weigh on them, and they find solace in one another. COMPLETED!
1. Cat and Mouse

**A/N:** I have no malicious feelings towards the men and women of the New York Police Department. They are all exceptional individuals, and have done this country a tremendous service within the past decade.

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

Please read and review.

* * *

Feral

Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse

New York City at night—impressive by anyone's standards. The setting of the sun marked the end of a long day and the beginning of a hard night's work for many, including the city's hero. Peter Parker was resting on the side of a particularly tall skyscraper, observing the after hours' lights display that was the trademark for Manhattan nightlife. _The city that never sleeps, indeed_ he thought ruefully. That, of course, meant that he couldn't sleep either. The sounds of blaring automobile horns and the smells of ethnic restaurants, slightly tainted by methane emissions, drifted through the air to meet the Spider-man's nostrils.

His current circumstances provided him with the opportunity to lose himself in thought. One idea in particular was drilling a tattoo in his skull: He should have been on a date. He had been lax in the romance department as of late. When was the last time he had even been out for coffee with a woman? As soon as the number of weeks grew too large for him to count on his fingers, he gave up trying to remember his most recent female encounter. He hated to admit it, but Peter Parker wasn't exactly a lady-killer, and freelance photography was hardly an occupation with much of a future. At that, another thought struck him: _he had forgotten his camera_. _There goes the paycheck_. Well, he would be visiting the Bugle's cafeteria for his lunch tomorrow—again. That would make it the third time this week!

He placed his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands, thankful that his lofty perch afforded him the luxury of privacy. It was going to be another one of _those_ nights. As he contemplated exactly where his life fell on the pathetic scale, a familiar tingle at the back of his skull shook him out of his malaise. His spider-sense—danger. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Felicia Hardy cursed as she recognized the tell-tale signs of a silent alarm that she had just tripped. Specifically, the ones that sealed off all of the ground-floor exits—doors and windows—and secured every valuable piece of merchandise within its display case beneath reinforced glass. With a series of metallic clangs and pneumatic hisses, the building was securely locked-down. Tower Top Jewelers—the high-end jewelry store—was located atop a high-end business conglomerate in a high-end district of the city. She should have expected that the security system would be, well, high-end. She sighed deeply. At least her sloppiness could still serve some beneficial purposes. Namely, the opportunity to try out some of the new Muay Thai moves that she had been practicing. Although her mastery of martial arts would be primarily wasted on any officer that the NYPD could supply. She was always amazed by the level of ineptitude that they perpetually demonstrated. She secretly hoped that Spider-man would make an appearance.

_Spider-man_—her pulse raced at just the mere thought of him. Now, _there_ was a worthy adversary. He was the only opponent she had faced as the Black Cat that had bested her in combat on multiple occasions. She was unashamed of this however, because she recalled once observing him in a fight. Although he had been faced with multiple opponents, his strikes were flawlessly timed and delivered with pinpoint accuracy. His speed and dexterity were unparalleled, and his anticipation was uncanny. She remembered reading something about an insect's early warning system. She dismissed the thought. _A sixth sense? Ridiculous. But he did win an awful lot of hand-to-hand combat matches._ A fly landed on a display case to her left. She was careful to approach it from behind, but when slammed her palm down, she saw the insect fly away—unharmed. _Maybe not so ridiculous after all._ She would have to find a way around his little defense mechanism if they were to face each other tonight. Her mind returned to her precarious position and she slunk deeper into the shadows. Patiently biding her time and hoping for the arrival of the masked vigilante.

* * *

The wailing of police sirens was the first indicator that he was on the right track. The second indicator came after he recognized the building that the squad cars were racing towards—a ritzy jewelry outlet. The gold neon sign above the shop's main entrance read: "Tower Top Jewelers". _How original_, Peter thought, but petty criminals were great for one thing: providing distractions. And Peter was grateful for anything that would take his mind off of the absence of a personal love-life. He quickly surveyed the doors and windows that lead to the interior of the shop. They all appeared to be blocked by some thick, durable, probably expensive, metal alloy. His only entry point was from a skylight on the roof of the building. He released the single strand of webbing that he had been clinging to and temporarily engaged in a freefall. The instant his feet touched the industrial surface of the roof he tucked his legs into his chest and rolled forward, alleviating the sting of his rapid descent. Transitioning from his summersault roll directly onto his feet, Spider-man cautiously approached the skylight windows. The panes of glass were arranged in a large, hexagonal shape and were joined together so that they formed a triangular peak. The latch that sealed the glass was guarded by some sort of complicated locking mechanism and Peter briefly entertained the idea of tinkering with the device, but remembering that time was of the essence, he rejected the notion. Since the silent alarm had already been tripped, he would opt for a more direct approach.

* * *

Felicia had been mulling over her plan for the entrance of Spider-man when her extra-sensitive ears picked up on a barely perceptible sound. Her eyes and head snapped in the direction that the noise had originated from. _Up_. Someone was on the roof. Someone—she guessed—wearing red and blue tights. A wicked smile crept onto her face.

"Well, it's abou—"her ruminations were cut short by the sound of shattering glass. She recognized a human form falling within the fragmented shards and debris, and she circled around in the darkness to gain a better vantage point.

Peter landed deftly, in a crouch, with the fingertips on his right hand splayed out on the ground in front of him. The movement served a two-fold purpose. It assisted in maintaining his balance, as well as lowering his center of gravity in case of a quick attack from the would-be burglar. Peter's eyes scoured every inch of the showroom, and, after taking stock of the situation, he realized that he was in no immediate danger. He slowly rose to his feet, adrenalin heightening his already superhuman senses.

Felicia's breath caught in her throat as she observed her favorite sparring partner. The damaged skylight had filtered a dagger of moonlight into the building that illuminated the floor. As Spider-man stood, he was bathed in an ethereal glow that silhouetted the fine contours of his body against the velvet blackness that surrounded him. In her mind, the picturesque scene only served to emphasize the mystery that shrouded the Spider-man persona. She silently wondered, not for the first time, just who was behind the mask._ Would she recognize him? Had she passed him on the street, or in a coffee shop? Was he handsome? _She shook her head. It was such a frivolous thing to worry about, but she couldn't help herself. She may have been an infamous cat bugler, a notorious criminal, but, dammit, she was a woman first, and she had not been this excited about a man in her life for quite some time. Lost in her reverie, Felicia failed to take note of her surroundings, as she was caught staring. She was abruptly thrust back into reality when her shin collided with a rather nasty corner on one of the display cases, and, as she toppled, she nearly face-planted into another case. Quickly regaining her balance, she rubbed her lower leg as it throbbed in pain. Once again casting her glance upwards, she immediately noticed that Spider-man was no longer stationed in the middle of floor. Quietly berating the display case, and herself, for the misstep, Felicia continued to maneuver stealthily around the room, wary for any more protruding corners, and the, now invisible, Spider-man.

* * *

Plenty more Black Cat/Spidey goodness to come...


	2. Foreplay

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter. I owe many of you (my readers) a debt of gratitude for all of your support and encouragement. Please accept this chapter as a small token of my appreciation. ;) If I do not reply to your review, please do not be upset. I will do my best, but my primary focus will continue to lie on writing the next chapter. Enjoy!

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names are properties of Marvel and Stan Lee.

* * *

Feral

Chapter 2: Foreplay

Peter was slightly perturbed by the sight that greeted him upon examination of the show room. While the security measures were efficient—with all of the blocked windows—it meant that visibility inside of the jewelry store was significantly reduced. He contemplated upgrading his mask to support a night-vision feature. Of course for that, or any upgrade, to become a reality, he needed money. The absence of his camera added to the uneasy feeling building in the pit of his stomach. Cautiously, he proceeded to venture into the ominous darkness, relying on his ears—and his spider-sense—to reveal the hidden crook.

He had not advanced far from his initial position beneath the skylight when a sudden crashing sound erupted from behind him. Immediately spinning on his heels, he followed the noise. His eyes searching even more vigilantly for the clumsy criminal, while he used his hands to locate the display cases surrounding him. The worst mistake he could make would be the one that his foe already had—to reveal himself. While Peter's entrance may have been far from subtle, maintaining the element of surprise remained crucial. Although he could not see his adversary, the one minor advantage that the darkness provided was that his opponent also could not see him. The knot began to form, once more, in his stomach, and Peter grew increasingly more cautious. He had learned, long ago, that the only thing more reliable at detecting danger than his spider-sense, was his gut.

* * *

There was absolutely no doubt in Felicia's mind that Spider-man had heard her little run-in with the display-case corner. She acted swiftly, in order to put distance between them, but, her curiosity got the better of her, and she crouched down behind a large case twenty feet ahead of her would-be captor. _Curiosity killed the cat_, her subconscious reminded her, but she ignored the thought. Peering over the top of the case, the Spider-man appeared before her eyes, basked in a light green hue. _I see you, _she thought. She reminded herself to thank the Tinkerer for the specialty contact lenses that he had created. The lenses gave her the ability to see in a number of ranges across the electromagnetic spectrum, and a recent upgrade had added a night-vision capability. She had, once again, reclaimed the upper hand. He inched closer to her position, and she readied herself. _This would be one hell of a good time_.

* * *

Peter had just begun to relax when his spider-sense was thrown into overdrive. He barely had enough time to bring his arms up—in a half-hearted block attempt—before a white boot struck out at his face. Although his forearms had absorbed much of the blow, Peter could no longer maintain his balance. He began to backpedal clumsily, and began to fall after his right heel awkwardly collided with a corner of one of the cases behind him. He tumbled to the left, and his embarrassing descent culminated in a grand finale when the side of his head crashed into another case. He lay on the floor of the showroom frantically rubbing at every part of his body that was injured in the fall. While he was trying to restore the proper feeling to his limbs—and reduce the pain—he heard a distinctly feminine sounding laughter erupt from somewhere in front of him. Confusion began to manifest. He didn't know many female criminals. Silver Sable wasn't in town, and that narrowed his list down to—"Black Cat?"

"Gee, Spidey, you sure know how to impress a girl. I always knew you'd fall head-over-heels for me, but not quite so literally." Laughter still danced in her voice.

He slowly rose to a standing position, facing the direction he imagined her to be. "Wow, great one-liner. Is the mask supposed to grant you the powers of wit? Let me tell you, after that little gem, you may want to consider a change in headgear."

His sarcasm was greeted with more laughter. "Says the klutzy superhero. I thought you were supposed to stick to things."

Peter subconsciously rubbed at the back of his neck, but quickly forced himself to stop. He wouldn't be embarrassed by a crook!

After he had been silent for some time, Felicia appeared out of the darkness before him. "Tell you what, hero," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "You beat me in hand-to-hand combat, and I'll let you change the mask for me."

A chance to unmask the Black Cat? When something sounded too good to be true, it usually was, and nothing was _ever_ that simple with habitual liars. "What's the catch?" he said warily.

"No catch. No gimmicks." The Cat smirked as if she could read Peter's expression of disbelief through his mask. "No tricks. No, what I have in mind is much, much better."

"Spill it. What's the deal?"

"You'll find out." She responded cryptically. "On one condition," she added.

"And that would be?"

"No super abilities."

Peter considered the offer. He had beaten her before. Twice. _Why should this time be any different_? "Alright, but we need a change of scenery. It would hardly be a fair fight if I couldn't see you."

She padded over to him, and placed a hand on his chest. Looking him square in the eyes she asked "Who said anything about playing fair?" A furtive smile graced her beautiful face, and she winked at him before continuing towards the center of the room, and the patch of flooring that was illuminated by the pale sliver of moonlight.

Peter's eyes followed her every step of the way. _My God, that costume was distracting!_ He quietly observed her from his position. If a more attractive woman existed, he had yet to see her. He was convinced that her alter-ago must be some kind of super model with that oval face and those deep-set, crystal blue eyes. His eyes drank in the luscious curves that her skin-tight suit highlighted to perfection. _Why the hell did she have to be a criminal?_ He could think of much more practical uses for her tremendous flexibility and Olympic-level acrobatics. He found himself suddenly wanting to remove a lot more than just her mask, and not out of any sense of professional curiosity. Her voice drew him back to reality.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, "You coming, web-slinger, or do you still want to play cops and robbers?"

He shook his head to clear out any residual thoughts about her appearance, and jogged over to her. She turned to face him, with a smile, before raising her arm and firing the miniature grappling device hidden within the fur on the wrist of her glove. Once she had cleared the remains of the skylight, Spider-man shot a strand of webbing towards the opening in the shop's ceiling. As he ascended, one thought was repeating throughout his mind like a refrain: _What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

This is primarily just a filler-chapter. It only gets better, trust me. ; )


	3. Catharsis

**A/N:** I would like to apologize to all of my readers for the extreme tardiness of this chapter. I mentioned that a virus attacked my computer and knocked it out-of-commission, but that is an explanation and not an excuse. I sincerely hope that this "final" installment is everything that you all hoped it would be. Thank you for your loyalty and your patience.

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

* * *

Feral

Chapter 3: Catharsis

By the time Peter had reached the rooftop, the Black Cat was already warming up for the bout. She was stretching languidly and appeared unfazed by his arrival. Peter didn't even pretend to loosen up. Not with a show like this directly in front of him. He knew that it was probably a distraction technique, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own. His eyes lapped up her exquisite form. She bent over—straight-legged—and touched her toes. Then, she locked her fingers together and straightened her arms over her head, palms outward. Peter was immediately aware of the distinct lack of any type of supportive undergarment. _Was she wearing_ any_ underwear?_ With each movement her leather suit groaned in protest and the sound seemed to echo in Peter's head. Each time he thought the outfit was going to burst open, the Cat would switch her position and the process would start all over again. She was lithe and athletic, but her curves were full and womanly, and he was painfully reminded of exactly how long it had been since he had enjoyed the company of an attractive woman. Or any woman, for that matter.

"Hey, web-head," her voice snapped his mind back to attention, and his eyes back to her face—mostly. "You might want to try getting limber." She looked him up and down, "Can't have you pulling a muscle before I kick your ass."

Peter nodded his head slowly, and turned his back to her. There was no way that his focus would remain intact if she was anywhere near his line-of-sight. He tried to concentrate on the fight, on the task at hand, on the way that the black leather clung to her br—NO! He drew in a series of deep breaths, slowly exhaling, centering himself. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times, shook out his arms and legs, and turned to face his opponent…but she had disappeared.

He was frozen in shock, for a moment, before his spider-sense roared to life and he adroitly rolled forward. Not a moment too soon, as the Black Cat's foot sliced through the air where his head had been. She landed lightly, on the balls of her feet, with a smirk plastered across her face.

"I told you, Spidey. I don't play fair," she said to him.

Peter assumed a fighting stance, with his knees slightly bent and his fists cocked, and the two began to circle one another. As they drew within striking distance, Felicia made the first move. She drew back her fist, as if to throw a punch, but quickly dropped to the ground and swept her leg in a graceful arch which knocked Peter to the ground. Jumping immediately back up to his feet, Peter retaliated. He threw a deliberate punch of his own, and, once she had caught his fist, he used his momentum to reverse his pivot, spin around, and deliver a punishing elbow to the side of her head. Felicia staggered slightly but ignored the minor numbing sensation near her temple. She ducked under his next strike and brought her knuckles to the underside of his chin with surprising force. The uppercut was so powerful that the blow lifted Peter off of his feet. Before he had a chance to regain his bearings, Felicia delivered a roundhouse kick, in midair, to his abdomen that sent him sailing across the roof.

She cautiously approached his downed form. "I thought boys weren't supposed to hit girls," she said.

Peter propped himself up onto his elbows. "I don't know any girls that hit half as hard as you do," he replied.

Felicia smiled despite herself as she observed the Spider-man slowly rise to his feet. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

Peter rubbed his newly aching jaw and moved to stand in front of her once more. He attempted to lunge for her but she performed a flawless back-handspring and successfully put more distance between them. However, when she had completed her maneuver, she was incredibly surprised to find a strand of webbing surrounding her stomach. With a quick tug, Peter drew her to him. Felicia threw a punch but he had anticipated it, and secured her wrist in a vice grip. He locked her other arm behind her back and arrogantly tipped his head to one side.

Felicia was stunned by the level of ease at which he had rendered her defenseless, but he had cheated. "I thought we agreed not to use our powers," she challenged, struggling against his hold.

"I thought you said that you don't like to play fair," he replied. Felicia could feel the smirk through his mask.

She pondered her situation briefly. Escape was entirely out of the question as he was undoubtedly stronger than her, but then another idea struck her. She considered their position. His arms were wrapped around her, their chests were nearly touching, and their heads were separated by only a few inches. A feral grin grew across her face. _This was exactly where she wanted to be_. Felicia moved closer to her captor, pressing herself tightly against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and she drew her pelvis flush to his. She was instantly aware of his growing excitement.

"What are you doing?" He said breathlessly. Felicia could hear the slight discomfort in his voice, and felt his confidence rapidly slipping away. His grip on her wrists loosened, but not enough for her to break free.

She leaned forward until their cheeks were touching. "Breaking the rules," she whispered into his ear.

Felicia noticed that his grip had gone slack and quickly slid her arms free of his hands. She should have pushed him away—should have continued their little sparring session—but her subconscious was acutely aware of every single place that they were touching. The warmth that had pooled in her stomach slowly began to spread throughout her body, and the air around them suddenly seemed charged. Felicia realized the Spider-man must have felt the same way because he had not backed away either, if anything he had drawn himself closer. She placed a hand on his chest and discovered that his pulse had accelerated exponentially, and he was breathing deeply. Her eyes searched his face and she inwardly cursed the mask for hiding it—and his emotions—from her.

Peter hesitantly secured his hands to either side of her slim waist. He tried to think of all the reasons why he shouldn't have been doing this. None came to mind. Logic and caution were thrown to the wind, and all that remained was the sudden, remarkable realization that he was no longer alone. His hands began to wander the superb contours of her body, but he froze when her hands located the bottom of his mask—and began to tug upward.

"Wait…I…uh…wait." His voice was thick with desire but his words were spoken without any semblance of conviction, and Peter's hands remained motionless to stop her. Felicia carefully raised the synthetic fabric to a point just above the tip of his nose, and Peter's protests ceased as Felicia ran her fingers along the tight sinews in his neck. Her thumb located his pulse, and began to massage the area softly. He was struck by how something so blatantly wrong could feel so incredibly right. He drew her head close and watched as her eyelids fluttered closed a moment before their lips met.

The kiss was hard and passionate and frantic. A release. Their mouths were crushed together, and their tongues dueled as ardently as the two had sparred. The ferocity in Peter's grip returned as he clutched their bodies firmly against one another. The necessity of oxygen demanded that the two separate after some time, but both remained only centimeters apart.

Felicia spoke first, her lips slightly swollen from their carnal encounter. She glanced down at a red mark along Peter's jaw line. "Got you pretty good, didn't I?" She observed.

Resting his forehead on hers, he nodded gently. "Yeah," he said, completely aware of the double-meaning behind her words.

"Let me help." As Felicia spoke, her lips brushed his due to their close proximity, and he nodded again. She pressed her lips to his injury for a few seconds, stepped back, and nimbly ran her thumb across the spot that she had kissed. Even after her lips had left his face, Peter felt a tingling sensation throughout his head. "Better?" She queried. The corners of his mouth curved upwards in a demure smile and he gave her an almost imperceptible head-bob of affirmation.

The sounds of local law-enforcement entering the building beneath their feet shattered the moment, and brought the two down from their emotional high. Gruff voices shouted orders to one another and heavy, boot-covered feet thundered loudly against the marble flooring. Policemen and women coaxed as many metallic sounds as they could from their firearms, and began to search the premises thoroughly. Peter and Felicia both took stock of their compromising position and reluctantly broke apart. Peter caught her wrist before she could extract herself completely from his grasp, and drew her close once more. Felicia placed a chaste kiss on his lips and folded the mask down, over his exposed face. She raked a single finger down the side of his face, stopping at his chin. The action sent a shockwave of shivers down Peter's spine, and his attention remained locked onto her. She balanced his jaw on her forefinger for a moment before winking, turning, and sprinting toward the opposite side of the rooftop. She turned to face him once more.

"Catch me later, web-slinger," she said, an instant before leaping off the edge of the building and disappearing into the night.

Peter smiled to himself, the memory of the kiss still fresh in his mind's eye. _Not bad, Parker. Not bad at all._ He swung down into the showroom and quickly explained all that had transpired—sans a few of the more saucy details—to the officers in charge. No pictures, no paycheck, and no perpetrator. _No problem_. He had found something much more important.

* * *

The following week, while on his routine patrol, Peter came across another jewelry store break-in. He caught sight of a wisp of white hair before it disappeared into the depths of the building. He smiled nostalgically, and rapidly changed course towards the structure. Landing precisely where he had spotted the vanishing coif, he peered into the darkness that shrouded the showroom floor. Taking a few steps forward, he called out.

"Here kitty, kitty."

* * *

Please review. : )


	4. Epilogue: Part 1

**A/N: **So, you guys held up your end of the bargain and now I must hold up mine. I hope that it was worth the wait (and the minor blackmailing).

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

Please read and review.

* * *

Feral: Epilogue (Part 1)

"An Unlikely Partnership"

_**Flashback:**__ The following week, while on his routine patrol, Peter came across another jewelry store break-in. He caught sight of a wisp of white hair before it disappeared into the depths of the building. He smiled nostalgically, and rapidly changed course towards the structure. Landing precisely where he had spotted the vanishing coif, he peered into the darkness that shrouded the showroom floor. Taking a few steps forward, he called out._

_"Here kitty, kitty."_

* * *

"Forbidden pleasures alone are loved immoderately; when lawful, they do not excite desire." – Marcus Fabius Quintilian

* * *

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Peter thought. The weight of his impulsive decision began to settle on his mind as he stared into the black void of the building. Technically, he hadn't heard any alarm nor had he been alerted to any danger by his spider-sense. Nothing illegal or perilous had occurred so he had no reason to be chasing after the Black Cat. His mind wandered back to their most recent encounter. He vividly recalled the rooftop, the fight, and the kiss…At least that solved the mystery as to why he had followed her. He was thinking with the wrong head.

His thoughts wandered to the taste of her lips and the feel of her pliable flesh beneath his fingers. He remembered how her hands had caressed his skin and how her voice had paralyzed him. He remembered the near-miss with his mask. _Get a hold of yourself, Parker! She's a thief for Christ's sake!_ Why couldn't he have met a nice, normal girl? A girl that was interested in shoes and talking and chocolate. And a girl that didn't have a penchant for kleptomania. _Never a dull moment_, he mused sardonically.

Peter dragged a hand down the length of his face. As much as he hated to admit it, part of him felt more connected with the Cat than he had ever been with any girlfriend that his alter-ego entertained. He felt like he could be himself around her. He didn't have to hide behind physics textbooks or exaggerated awkwardness. He—His ruminations were cut short when two hands snaked around his upper body from beneath his armpits and he felt a body press into his back. A noticeably feminine body. _Why the hell hadn't his spider-sense activated?_

"Because you're not in any danger," a familiar voice replied. _Had he said that out loud? _"That too," the voice told him, chuckling. Peter was frozen in shock. _What else had he said out loud?_ Felicia rested her head on his shoulder blade, unfazed. "Mmm, I was hoping you'd swing by," she said tightening her embrace. Her hands began to wander lower on his torso until Peter had to spin around and grasp her wrists to halt their descent.

Peter was not prepared for the current of attraction that he felt shoot up his arms at the touch, and he quickly broke off the connection by releasing her hands. The last time they met, his emotions had gotten the better of him, but this time he was determined to master his feelings. _Like how you "mastered" them by following her into a deserted building_, his subconscious prodded. He groaned inwardly and retreated a few steps. Her proximity was already clouding his judgment.

Felicia was having none of it. She closed the gap between their bodies and rubbed her hands down the Spider-man's arms, slowing coaxing them around her waist. "Is something wrong?" she tried. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

Peter didn't remove his hands, but he made sure that there was at least some space separating them. He examined her while he tried to think of an answer to her question. She was every bit as seductive as he remembered. A thin nose on top of full, light pink lips was framed in an elegant, oval face. Her almond-shaped, blue eyes were highlighted by the contrast from the black mask that barely concealed her identity and the mane of white hair that spilled down her head in soft curls. His gaze fell to the plunging V-neck line of her suit. The black material strained to contain her ample bosom. _Why the hell hadn't his spider-sense gone off?_ He could have avoided this mess. Her fingers were burning into the skin along his forearms where she was holding his arms in place. _What the hell was he doing here?_

"Yes. No. I don't know," he said. "Ever since the…the…"

"Kiss," Felicia supplied.

"Yes. Ever since the _kiss_ I've been thinking a lot about you." The Black Cat smiled at him.

"What a coincidence," she said. "But I was thinking that maybe you could remind me how that kiss went. I've had quite a bit on my mind lately and I seem to have forgotten," she drew her hands to the base of his neck where the bottom of his mask blended seamlessly with the top of his suit. She tugged the synthetic fabric upward in a familiar manner. His hands were much quicker to stop her this time.

"Cat, I—," he began. But she silenced him by sliding one arm free from his grasp and cupping the side of his face. His hand moved to cover hers.

"Shhh," she murmured. "Don't you trust me?"

_No,_ Peter thought immediately. But after spending several seconds in consideration, he realized that she was right. He wasn't in any immediate threat. They had been in this situation before and she hadn't violated his privacy. His spider-sense remained dormant. _No danger_. Slowly, he let his arms fall to his sides. Her fingers resumed their task and quickly exposed the bottom half of his face. Felicia's gloved thumb passed over his lips before she eliminated any remaining distance between their bodies.

"Now," she purred, locking eyes with the Spider-man, "remind me."

Peter's arms reflexively circled her waist, drawing her body as close as possible to his own. _As close as he had on the rooftop_. His lips descended to meet hers. Their faces were separated by inches, then centimeters, and then…nothing—an explosion rocked the building and tore the two apart. They fell in opposite directions, landing several feet apart.

Peter was the first to regain his footing and he quickly padded over to the Black Cat. He offered her his hand in assistance. Felicia grasped his outstretched fingers and he lifted her off of her backside. "What the hell was that?" Peter shouted as they dusted themselves off.

"'_That_' is why I led you here tonight," Felicia began. "I need your help."

* * *

My first update back, and I'm already throwing around cliff-hangers. Bad form? I don't know. Review and let me know.


	5. Epilogue: Part 2

**A/N:** It's an update. Nothing more need be said.

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

Please read and review.

* * *

Feral: Epilogue (Part 2)

"Strange Bedfellows"

"Of my sowing such straw I reap. O human folk, why set the heart there where exclusion of partnership is necessary?"—Dante Alighieri

* * *

_"Don't you trust me?"_

That's what she had asked him not two minutes ago, before she had peeled away his mask. Before she had lied to him. _Don't you trust me?_ Peter's head was swimming in confusion and disbelief. She _led_ him here? For what purpose? To what end? She had manipulated his feelings for her. She had used the…_incident_ on the rooftop to lower his guard. She had betrayed him. Peter wrenched his hand away from her own with so much force that the movement caused her to stumble forward slightly. Her hollow words still rang in his ear.

_Don't you trust me?_

How could he have ever been so foolish? She was a criminal! She lied as a profession—out of necessity! Trust her? How could he trust himself anymore? He needed to be gone from this place. To be somewhere, anywhere else. Peter turned his back to the Black Cat, raised his arm, and fired a strand of webbing that attached itself to the stone railing of a balcony that had served as his entrance. He tugged on the organic cord, pulling the line taut. Bending his knees, he leaned back and lowered his center of gravity in preparation for the sling-shot effect from his improvised bungee cord. He stretched the webbing to its limit, tightening his grip. Just a few more seconds and he would be propelled forward, out into the Manhattan night. _Three_. He would be content if their paths never crossed again. _Two_. The Cat could find another plaything. _One more second_…

"Spider-man wait!" she cried, running towards him. She placed a hand on his extended limb and tried to lower his arm gently. _The same hand that had cupped his cheek_. Peter shook off her fingers. "I can explain," she said.

His eyes remained locked on his escape route. "We're done talking," was his curt reply.

"Please." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Desperation was evident in her pleading tone. "Please, I need your help."

Peter Parker was furious, but her distress seemed genuine. She may not have been the poster-child for a law-abiding citizen, but wasn't he obligated to help anyone that required his assistance? And she hadn't done anything unlawful _that_ night. At least not yet. _Dammit! Why did he have to follow her? Why did he care about her problems? Why did he _want_ to rescue her?_ The answer that his subconscious provided frightened him more than an army of henchmen ever could. It seemed unjustly ironic that the woman presenting him with this morally ambiguous scenario was wearing an outfit made of black and white. _Ethical absolutes, my ass_. He couldn't believe that he was about to do this. He released the strand of webbing reluctantly. He turned to face her. He held up the index and middle finger on his right hand. "Two minutes," he said. His tone caused Felicia to take a number of steps back from him.

"When I came up empty-handed from the Tower-Top heist, I was contacted, by the same captain of industry that hired me, to pull a replacement job."

"What's your employer's name?" Peter inquired.

"Dominic Vulcan. The CEO of Vulcan Industries. Very rich, very powerful."

"What were you supposed to steal?"

"The Stuyvesant Tiger. It was on display here as part of a rare, feline-themed, gem collection. Vulcan's idea of joke probably."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he double-booked the job. After I met with Vulcan for the second time, I asked some of my contacts to put feelers out." Felicia crossed her arms over her chest. "I had uneasy feeling. Vulcan seemed way too calm about the botched theft last week, like he was happy that I hadn't returned with what he'd asked me to. I got really suspicious when he handed over the information about the Tiger. The intel was flawless."

"That's a problem?"

"In my profession? You bet. Even the best surveillance leaves out some details. Last minute tweaks are a guarantee, but the stuff he gave me made it seem like the jewelry collectors _wanted_ the Tiger to be stolen. Everything was too perfect: the location, the escape plan, even the necklace itself. C'mon, a cat? The job was designed to be an offer that I couldn't refuse, and that didn't sit right with me. Call it female intuition," she shrugged. "Turns out my hunch was right."

Peter leaned against a large, marble column that served as a support beam for the building's second floor, circular walkway. "How so?"

"Eighteen hours after the meet with Vulcan, an informant named Fade got back to me. He told me that Vulcan had gone behind my back and hired another crew to pick up the Tiger."

"So, what's the big deal? Maybe Vulcan didn't think that you could get the job done. You failed at Tower Top; maybe he was just implementing a contingency plan."

"It's a _big deal_ because Fade told me that Vulcan recruited a team from within his own ranks. Vulcan Industries is one of the largest private security conglomerates in the United States. All of his lackeys are ex-military personnel, usually Special Forces and what-not. Guys that mean serious business."

Peter pushed off of the column and took a few deliberate steps towards the Black Cat. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his mind began piecing together the puzzle. "So you don't think he was just organizing a band of thieves?"

Felicia nodded. "He hired a hit squad to assassinate me, and then steal the Tiger."

"Why would Vulcan want you dead?"

"He's tying off loose ends. I've seen his face and can implicate him in the thefts with compelling evidence. He must have assumed that I cut some kind of deal with the police. How many times does a thief screw up on a job and still successfully sidestep law enforcement? It's a logical conclusion on his behalf."

"Immunity in exchange for information," Peter nodded.

"Exactly."

"Well, he obviously doesn't know you very well." Felicia raised an eyebrow. Now Peter shrugged, "If he did, he would know that you're an incredibly talented escape artist, and that you would _never_ talk to the police. Even if by some miracle they did manage to get their hands on you."

She smiled despite herself and the circumstances. "Thank you, Spidey, but that still leaves one, enormous problem. What are we going to do about my little…predicament?"

"_Our_ predicament," Peter amended. He walked the remaining distance to stand directly before her. This time her smile wasn't forced, but it faded quickly.

"Does this mean that I'm forgiven?"

"I don't remember you apologizing."

A predatory glint flickered in Felicia's eyes, and Peter subconsciously took a tentative step back. She approached him slowly, her hips swaying sensually from side to side with each step. Her face had adopted a look of innocence. Her eyes seemed to grow larger as she looked up at him from beneath full lashes, and the hint of shy smile tugged her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. She leaned back away from his face but kept their lower bodies very close together. "I'm sorry that I lied to you," she said, pouting slightly. Then their gazes locked and she continued, "But I'm not sorry that you came."

Peter attempted to remain impassive through the exchange, but her actions had once again stirred his carnal desire. He waited for her words to sink in before reaching behind her and swatting her backside with an open palm. She let out a small cry of surprise at the brashness of the gesture, but a flirty smile lit up her face.

Felicia playfully batted his hand away and poked at his chest with her forefinger. "Hands to yourself, boy scout," she warned, smiling. She turned and sashayed away from him, pausing after a few steps to toss a saucy wink over her shoulder. Peter matched her stride in an instant.

The pair wandered deeper into the gallery, following the sound of the explosion. After they had walked some ways, Felicia cast a sidelong glance towards the Spider-man. "Thank you for this," she said. "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it. We can discuss your debt later. I've got something else I'd like to talk about."

"What's that?"

"I've got a plan…" Peter said.

* * *

Dialogue-heavy, filler piece. More to come. Stay tuned. Reviews are always appreciated.


	6. Epilogue: Part 3

**A/N:** This will be the second-to-last update for my story. I intend to conclude "Feral" with the next chapter. To all of my loyal fans and readers, thank you. You guys are the reason that I enjoy writing so much. Keep an eye out for more of my stuff in the future!

*Updated version*

Disclaimer: All characters/names belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. Original characters are my intellectual property.

* * *

Feral: Epilogue (Part 3)

"Unmasked"

"True heroism is remarkably sober […] It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." —Arthur Ashe

* * *

Staff Sargent Darius Miles was no stranger to combat. He had killed many men, and witnessed the death of a number of his brothers-in-arms. The African American man had served his country during the Gulf War as part of an elite Special Operations unit. As a Black-ops team, they were responsible for high risk search-and-rescues, deep cover surveillance, and high profile assassinations. However, their success was short-lived. During the fairly routine extraction of an American-friendly diplomat something had gone terribly wrong. Due to either a traitor or misinformation, the Spec-Ops squadron had been led into a hostile military zone and came under heavy fire. The diplomat survived, but three of the five members of the unit were gunned down, including Miles' brother Damien. Since the Miles brothers were members of a covert team, their existence could not be validated by the United States Government and Damien never received a proper burial. He became just another anonymous star on some wall somewhere in the capital. Darius and James Wilson, the other surviving member of the squad, went AWOL. Killing, stealing, raping indiscriminately. They reasoned that since they _technically_ didn't exist, there would be no repercussions for their actions. How could someone punish a ghost?

Nonetheless, their actions earned them dishonorable discharges from the United States military and top candidacy for employment at Vulcan Industries. Dominic Vulcan gave Darius command of another elite unit at the Private security firm. He had dubbed Miles and his band of mercenaries his "TALON" team. The acronym meant that the group was Dominic's personal Tactical Assassination Liaisons of Neo-terrorism. A glorified hit squad.

Darius was placing demolitions charges on the ceiling of an underground tunnel that ran directly beneath the building where the Stuyvesant Tiger gem was being showcased. He placed the miniature Maglite torch between his teeth and groped around inside a Velcro pocket on his tactical vest. He removed a folded piece of paper and opened it, tilting his chin downward. A cone of pale white light illuminated the dark lines that were drawn across the Xerox. What he was looking at was a layman's copy of the blueprints for Hock Plaza, the building overhead. Bisecting the building layout was a rudimentary drawing of the underground tunnel in red ink. A large circle marked the TALON team's entry point. After double-checking their position, Darius folded and returned the paper to his vest and grabbed the flashlight from his mouth. He smiled to himself as he made the final adjustments to the charges. He remembered his conversation with Dominic Vulcan.

_Darius pushed through the doors to the CEO's office on the top floor of the Vulcan Industries skyscraper. He was greeted by the sight of his employer's broad back. Dominic Vulcan stood facing a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared out at the Manhattan skyline as it transformed with the setting of the sun. He was wearing his customary black Nehru jacket, the collar and the cuffs were trimmed with white satin. _

_"Your assignment," he called over his shoulder. Vulcan turned his head and nodded in the direction of an ultra-modern, glass desk. He was indicating a manila file folder that rested there. "The dossier," he said. No further explanation was requested or given._

_Darius walked over and picked up the file. "Which one of your competitors is it this time?" he said with an arrogant smile. Then he opened the folder and his smirk vanished. He looked up at Vulcan with a furrowed brow. An unspoken question was written across his face. _

_Vulcan met the eyes of his TALON commander in the reflection of the window pane. "This isn't about business," he said. "It's personal."_

_Darius Miles stared back, neither man uttering a sound. Miles was struck by the ruthlessness that he saw in the black eyes of his employer. Then he remembered how Dominic had taken control of the empire—by murdering his own father. Vulcan's loyalty only meant something to an individual so long as they hadn't outlived their usefulness. Darius was still useful, but for how much longer? He nodded and then turned to leave, glancing over the information in the folder. This one would be a bitch. Before he reached the door, Vulcan's voice reached out to him once more._

_"No mistakes, Darius," he heard._

_"No mistakes, sir," Miles responded. _

_Then he was gone. _

Darius stepped down off of the knee of another soldier that had been supporting his weight while he placed the explosives. The knee, and the rest of the six-foot-two, two hundred and fifteen pound body, belonged to the other member of Miles' Gulf War Spec-Ops team, James Wilson. The remaining two members of the TALON squad were foreigners. Ivan Sokolov, an enormous Russian of Spetsnaz fame with a massive scar down the right side of his face, and Nazim Siduri, a wiry, ex-Mossad Israeli with shifty eyes and a beak-like nose. All of the men were at least forty, but whatever they had lost in agility or speed was more than made up for by years of extensive combat experience.

Darius and his men slowly backed away from the explosive charges, out of the blast radius. Miles looked each of them in the eyes before activating the hand-held detonator. A tiny green light flicked on. "Fire in the hole," he whispered with a sardonic smile, before triggering the detonator. The charges exploded with synchronized precision, clearing a four-by-four hole in the tiled flooring of Hock Plaza. A neat pile of debris rested beneath the opening.

TALON was back in business.

* * *

"_That's_ your plan?" Felicia whispered harshly. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That sounds like a terrible idea!"

The duo had made their way deeper into Hock Plaza. The feature exhibit was located near the center of the ground floor. Earlier that evening, high-society jewelry collectors had thrown a gala to showcase all of the valuables. Felicia had actually been in attendance as a guest. Her cover had provided her with the perfect opportunity for more surveillance. The severe lack of decent security only heightened her apprehensive feeling. That had been hours ago, before she devised the plan to lure Spider-man here. She was beginning to think that it wasn't such a good idea. _Use me as bait?_ She thought. No, teaming up with the vigilante wasn't turning out to be a good idea at all.

"Listen, Cat, they are expecting you to be here," he began. "If you don't show up they are going to get very suspicious, and the last thing we need is a highly trained group of assassins on red alert. These guys thrive under pressure. They—"

"Yeah, yeah I get it, ok?" Felicia waved her hand dismissively. "For the record, I hate your 'plan'."

"Noted."

Spider-man and the Black Cat weaved their way through more stone columns until they arrived at an expansive, circular opening. A large display case was situated in the center of the room. A neat opening in the checkered marble tile was visible. The hole was ten feet away from the glass case. Muffled voices could be heard from beneath the floor. Black bags were tossed from below-ground out into the exhibit. Four bodies followed. The men were all very disciplined and efficient, only speaking when necessary. They removed a series of tools from the black duffle bags, and systematically disarmed all of the security measures that were protecting the gems. Peter and Felicia were crouched behind a pillar off to the right of the thieves. Moonlight glinted off of the array of weapons that each man was carrying.

"I _really_ hate your plan," Felicia repeated, as she peeked out from behind their vantage point.

"Already noted." Peter replied impatiently. He turned to face to her. "Cat, look—"Her expression gave him pause. She looked uncertain and worried. She chewed on her lower lip and glanced away from him. When she turned back, she had arranged her face into a mask of confidence. The transformation shocked him.

"I'll be fine, right?" Felicia chuckled slightly and gave the Spider-man a lopsided smile. "Wish me luck?"

"I can't even begin to tell you how ironic that would b—"she placed a gloved finger over his lips, silencing him.

"Just wish me luck," she said.

Peter reached out and squeezed her shoulder. He nodded. "Good luck," he spoke against her finger. She moved her hand to cup his cheek again, and her eyes searched his face as if they were trying to memorize every detail, or possibly to imagine what he looked like without the mask. She broke off their eye contact by standing, and Peter's hand dragged down the length of her arm and passed over her fingers. He gave them a final squeeze which she returned. "I'll be right behind you," he promised.

Felicia nodded and then stepped from the shadows, calling out to the four men across the room.

* * *

Peter wasn't sure how it had happened. Well, he knew how it had happened, but he wasn't sure why it had escalated so quickly. So violently. Felicia had played her part spectacularly. Feigning confusion and surprise, but following along with all of the lies that the four men were telling her. They were just the back-up plan, additional assistance. They got overanxious so they had jumped the gun and blew the hole in Hock Plaza's floor. No big deal. Now that they were all together the job would go twice as fact. Twice as easy.

Felicia had helped the men with the remaining security systems. Carefully instructing them on how to disarm various features if they were ever forced into the situation again. "I won't always be around to bail your asses out," she joked and the men all laughed. If they had their way, she wouldn't be around very long at all. Once the security around the case was disabled, the men cut into to the glass covering to remove the Stuyvesant Tiger. The gem was the size of a tennis ball and it sparkled and winked in the pale blue light of the moon. One of the men, presumably the leader, held it up for inspection. Once he was satisfied, he slid the gem into a pouch on his combat vest and began walking back towards the hole his crew had created.

The Black Cat was close on his heels. "I thought the Tiger was my gig," she said. He turned to her and nodded to his men. They began to form a semi-circle around her. "C'mon," she continued, "What happened to all that team spirit?"

"Change of plans," the man said in a deep voice. He casually drew a Beretta M9 pistol from a holster strapped to the outside of his right thigh. "The Tiger stays with us." He raised his arm and pointed his sidearm at the middle of the Cat's forehead. "You stay here."

Felicia laughed. "You can't be seri—"

The man surged forward and slapped her across the face with the side of his pistol. Felicia pressed a hand onto her face where she had been struck, and she turned to glare at the man who had pistol-whipped her. It was his turn to chuckle. "_Dead_ serious, babe." He nodded to his team again and they poised to strike. "Dead serious." Then the men all attacked as one.

Peter chose to intervene at this time. Individually, these men probably weren't much trouble, but together, as a unit, they posed an incredible threat. _I've got to protect the Cat!_ He leapt out from behind the column and jumped into the fight. Black Cat seemed to be holding her own against two of the men. One was more slightly built, but he was very quick and crafty. The other looked to be about the same size as the man with the gun. He was a decent fighter, but his strikes were deliberate and easy to parry. The group's leader had disappeared down into the tunnel, and taken with him the Tiger, but Peter still faced another large problem. The remaining man was huge. He towered over the Spider-man at what must have been, at least, six-and-a-half feet. He looked to weigh close to three hundred pounds. Peter groaned inwardly. This would be the last time that he ever helped the Black Cat.

Although the man was of considerable size, his weakness, predictably, lied in his lack of quickness. His blows had tremendous force behind them, but he was only able to graze Peter with a few punches. The Spider-man bided his time until the man threw a lazy punch, and then Peter secured his wrist in an iron grip. Peter then twisted the wrist counter-clockwise causing the man to lurch forward. His right foot kicked out savagely at the back of the man's knees, and he heard a sickening pop. The giant let out a yelp of pain like a giant bear caught in a trap. Peter did not relent. He twisted the man's wrist back clockwise and caused him to lean back on his injured legs. Peter then powerfully thrust his left knee into the man's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Finally releasing the man's wrist, Peter quickly moved in front of him and placed both his hands on the man's broad shoulders. He lashed out and the top of his right knee connected to the underside of the soldier's jaw, rendering him unconscious.

Peter quickly checked on the Cat again. She blocked a punch and delivered two rapid-fire toe kicks to her opponent's side. Then, pivoting on her right foot, she swung her left leg around and crashed her heel into the opposite side of his head. _Good, she was holding her own._ He turned away from the commotion and tried to think of a way to track down team's leader. He only had a second to himself before his spider-sense thundered inside of his head. He turned back and observed that the final member of the hit squad had returned. His Beretta was aimed squarely at the Black Cat's back. Dark-skinned lips peeled back to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth. The smile was predatory and feral, and Peter hadn't even felt himself moving.

He was operating on instinct now, casting aside trepidation. He knew what came next. The squeezing of the trigger, and the crisp staccato of a gunshot. The scream from the Black Cat as the bullet entered her spinal column, and then the deafening silence afterword as she bled out. He couldn't let it happen. He _wouldn't_ let it happen. He was sprinting now, pumping his arms furiously. _Not like this!_ He wasn't going to make it. He bent his knees and thrust himself into the air. "Cat!" he shouted.

The crack of the shot echoed across the vacant expanse of the empty building.

Peter felt the bullet pierce the skin just below his rib cage. His mind registered the white-hot pain, but the adrenalin pumping through his veins forced him to ignore it. The man who had fired the weapon stood in stunned silence as the Spider-man's body fell in a crumpled heap a few feet in front of him. _Where had he come from?_ Peter rose quickly; the pain in his side was merely a dull ache to his reenergized body. He performed a back flip, making sure that both of his feet collided with the chin of the mercenary holding the gun. The man had been lifted off of his feet by the blow, and Peter leapt into the air after him. He grabbed both of the soldier's arms and coiled his body inward, placing both feet flat against the man's torso. He extended his legs with tremendous force and released his grip on the man's wrists, propelling him across the exhibit where he crashed hard into a stone pillar.

Peter landed on his feet, and drew in series of deep breaths as he observed the man's limp body slump onto the floor. The next breath he took highlighted the sharp pain in his side. The adrenalin rush was over. He placed his right hand over the wound and when he withdrew it his fingers were covered in a hot, sticky substance. _His own blood._ He fell back onto his haunches; his breathing was very much labored now. Blackness began to claw at the edges of his vision, and he was intensely aware of how tired he was. _But the Cat was safe_, he told himself. _The Cat was safe._

Then everything went dark.

* * *

Cliff-hanger! Haha, I love it! Reviews are the elixir that wards-off writer's block.


	7. Epilogue: Finale

**A/N:** This chapter marks the conclusion of "Feral". While I may return to post more, as I have in the past ; ), this piece will initiate another hiatus. I intend to finish up "Melting the Ice" and then really start pounding out my Mass Effect story. To all of my fans/readers/critics I sincerely thank you for making this journey with me. It has been a long road and we are very near to the end. As always, your loyalty (and patience!) remains my inspiration. This one is for you!

Many of you should thank **MissSkelto** for prompting me to write this faster.

In case there was any confusion concerning the title of the latest installment, I would like to clarify. The dictionary defines the word "unmasked" as revealing the true nature of someone or something. Our hero's unyielding, altruistic nature prevailed and was demonstrated in his sacrifice. In spite of his personal misgivings, his true nature shone through. He was "unmasked".

Please read and review (you may not get the chance to for some time…)

Disclaimer: All characters/names are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. Any descriptions of characters or events belong to me. TALON team and Vulcan Industries are my creations.

* * *

Feral: Epilogue (Conclusion)

"Unmasked" (Part 2)

_**Flashback:**__ Peter landed on his feet, and drew in series of deep breaths as he observed the man's limp body slump onto the floor. The next breath he took highlighted the sharp pain in his side. The adrenalin rush was over. He placed his right hand over the wound and when he withdrew it his fingers were covered in a hot, sticky substance. His own blood. He fell back onto his haunches; his breathing was very much labored now. Blackness began to claw at the edges of his vision, and he was intensely aware of how tired he was. But the Cat was safe, he told himself. The Cat was safe._

_Then everything went dark._

* * *

"When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing." – Rabindranath Tagore

* * *

"Cat!"

Felicia had heard the Spider-man shout out her name, and then she heard the gunshot. She whipped her head around just in time to see her partner collapse against the marble tile. She watched in horrified fascination as he stood once more, kicked his opponent into the air, and then performed an aerial dropkick that had sent the African American soldier careening across the room. She relished the satisfying crunch that echoed through the exhibit as his body was slammed against a stone pillar, shattering his spinal column. Her relief was short-lived when she returned her attention to the Spider-man. She observed the growing, dark-red spot that had appeared on his left side, and then saw her companion collapse to the floor. One of his arms was outstretched and his hand seemed to be reaching out for her. Then his head lolled to the side, and his arm dropped lifelessly to the ground.

"No!" she cried, as she turned to run towards his body.

"Don't move!" a nasally voice called from behind her. Felicia froze. She slowly raised her arms and spun back around to face her captor. The Israeli man wiped at the blood pouring from his beak-like nose with the back of his sleeve. His left arm was straightened towards Felicia and he had a Mark XIX Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol gripped tightly in his hand. "Not another-Goddamn-step," he ordered in thickly-accented English. Felicia glanced at her raised arms to signify her compliance. The dark-skinned man drew closer. "No more games," he said, drawing in wheezy breaths. "No more tricks, no more bullshit." A corner of his mouth upturned in a cruel smile and the moonlight winked off of his white teeth. "Just you and me," his eyes flickered over to the unconscious body of the superhero, "and no one's gonna save you this time," he spat. Then he squeezed the trigger on his sidearm and sent a .357 magnum cartridge speeding towards Felicia.

The Black Cat had anticipated the shot a second before it came and expertly sidestepped the round; the bullet missed her torso by inches and lodged itself into the wall behind her with a thump. Then she surged forward and caught the ex-Mossad operative off-guard by grabbing his left wrist with both hands. Before the man had a chance to react, Felicia swung her hips to the right, spun one-hundred and eighty degrees, and drove her elbow deep into his side. Then, quickly reversing her pivot, she brought the man's wrist over her shoulder and used her momentum to swing him over her back. Once the mercenary had touched the ground, Felicia dropped to the ground and scissored her legs across his chest while maintaining the grip she had on his forearm. Having secured her opponent in an arm-bar, Felicia lifted her hips off of the cool tile and viciously twisted the man's wrist counter-clockwise. Something popped and the man's arm went limp as he howled in pain. Felicia removed the Desert Eagle from his useless hand, and swiftly rose to her feet. Grasping the handgun by its barrel, Felicia swung the pistol's grip in a downward arch parallel to the floor. The weapon cracked across the soldier's jaw. The man's pain-filled moans were silenced immediately as he was rendered unconscious.

There was one mercenary that remained, but he was still recovering from Felicia's earlier onslaught of blows. He struggled to get his feet under him, and was hunched over on one knee when the Cat approached him from behind. Still gripping the pistol by its barrel, Felicia lashed out with the weapon and struck the soldier in the back of his head. His body swayed precariously before gravity coerced his powerful frame to the ground. He landed face-first and Felicia thought she heard a crunch. She wedged a foot between his torso and the floor and used her leg to flip him over. His nose was bent at an unnatural angle and blood gushed from the wound. Felicia did not take too much time to inspect the injury as she quickly remembered Spider-man's dilemma.

She rushed to his side and tentatively applied pressure to his wound. Spider-man moaned painfully. The sound brought an ironic smile to the Cat's face. _At least he wasn't dead_. "Can you hear me?" she asked.

He groaned again. She took that as a yes. "I'm going to put you over my shoulder so that it will be easier to carry you. Nod if you understand."

He nodded. Felicia slid her hands beneath his shoulder blades and slowly lifted him off of the ground. When he was in a seated position, Felicia slung his right arm over her shoulders and carefully brought them up to a standing position. She felt the Spider-man tense at the sensation and heard his sharp intake of breath—indicating that he was in pain, but he did not cry out. Felicia allowed him a few seconds rest before turning to face him. He oscillated back and forth on his heels but maintained the upright position. "Now I'm going to pick you up," Felicia told him.

Spider-man let out a strange noise that she identified loosely as a laugh. "I've never heard that one before," he said.

Felicia almost chastised him for making light of a serious situation, but she realized that the quips were probably just his coping mechanism. That or all of the blood loss was inducing a state of delirium. She didn't spend much time pondering the choices. Instead, she bent down, positioning her shoulder at his abdomen and wrapping her right arm around the back of his knees. She told him that she would lift on three, but picked him up after a one-count and shifted slightly under his weight while moving her right arm to hook around his back. Felicia told him to "hang on" a moment before firing her grappling device.

Peter began to say, "Don't worry, I don't sli—" but the moment their feet left the ground a sharp pain shot up his left side and knocked him unconscious for the second time that night.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the Black Cat's safehouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The building was a modern penthouse located on the corner of 78th and Lexington Avenue. A massive concrete patio with an in-ground swimming pool was rimmed by a stone balustrade and served as the landing pad for the duo. Felicia tried her best to make their descent a nimble one but the ground rushed up to greet them faster than expected and jarred the touch-down. The abrupt halt shook the Spider-man free from his hazy disorientation. He moaned in pain as Felicia returned him to his feet. He struggled mightily to maintain his balance and nearly collapsed under his own weight, but the Cat rushed to his side and slung his arm around her sturdy shoulders once more. She wrapped her arm around his midsection, careful to avoid the wound, and half-walked, half-dragged him to the sliding door that led to the interior of her grandiose residence. Every step seemed to be more difficult than the last for him and strangled cries of pain punctuated the short journey. Felicia cooed quietly into his ear. "It's ok," she told him, "We're almost there." Twelve more steps. "Everything will be alright." Eight, then four.

Then one.

Felicia slid back the glass door and the pair entered the penthouse. There was a large coffee table situated in the middle of a rectangle of leather furniture, and the Cat maneuvered them towards it. Felicia slowly slid the Spider-man's arm from around her shoulders and spun him around before coaxing him down into a prone position across the top of the coffee table. This would be her operating table. After she had laid her companion down, Felicia stood back to briefly to take stock of the situation. She placed her hands on her hips and ran her eyes over the damaged form of the vigilante. The dark spot on the left side of his suit had grown at least three times larger during the course of their flight. She tore her gaze away from the gash along his ribcage and surveyed the rest of him. He seemed smaller—more fragile—here. Battered and bruised he appeared before her in an alarmingly vulnerable state that, she thought, looked very human. She wondered again about his true identity and her eyes flicked up to his mask. _He would never know_, she thought, _if I just took a peek_. _He couldn't do anything to stop me. He might not even wake up_. Spider-man groaned, and the sound brought Felicia back to reality. She turned and walked away in search of any medical supplies that she could scrounge up.

The Black Cat had her fair share of battle scars. She had been involved in gunplay and knife fights. She had broken fingers and toes, and battled sprained ankles or wrists. Her shin had endured a particularly nasty run-in with the protruding corner of a display case. But she had never endured a gunshot wound. And she had certainly never mended one. Her first aid supplies, and knowledge, were thorough but knowing how to do something and actually performing the task were two very different things. She approached the coffee table with medical shears, bandages, towels, a scalpel, a bottle of antiseptic, and a first aid kit. She flicked on an overhead light. The damage appeared much worse bathed in the harsh white-yellow glow, but the Spider-man did not react to the sudden change in his surroundings. He was once again out cold and Felicia uttered a quiet word of gratitude. At least she didn't need to worry about an anesthetic.

She set to work removing the left side of his suit. She found the top of the synthetic fabric about halfway up his neck and used the medical shears to slice a diagonal path in the material down to his waist. She made a second incision across his collarbone to the top of his left bicep, and then slowly began to peel away the uniform. The material was skin-tight and sticky with sweat. The process was slow. Once Felicia came upon the wounded area, the fabric refused to budge. She figured that the blood around the hole in the suit had dried and bonded the material to the Spider-man's skin. She took a deep breath, counted to three and then yanked the fabric free from the wound. Spider-man awoke with a howl and instinctively reached for his injured side. The sudden jerkiness of the motion caused the muscles along his abdomen to tense and spasm uncontrollably which led to another series of painful groans. Felicia placed her hand on his exposed chest and gently-but-firmly told him to lie down. She applied light pressure to his skin with her fingertips and emphasized the command.

Once he had returned to his prone position, Peter turned his head away from the Cat and mumbled something. Felicia didn't catch it. "What?" she said.

He cleared his throat and then repeated, "Through and through." Felicia understood this to mean that the bullet had entered through his front and then exited the body through his back. It meant that the gunshot wound was not as critically dangerous as she had originally thought. If his assessment was accurate.

"How do you know?" she asked.

The Spider-man turned to face her and stared at her mutely for a few seconds. He appeared to realize that she could not read the incredulous expression on his face because it was concealed beneath his mask. Then he said, "I know."

"But how can you be su—"

"I know," he said and then let his head fall back against the coffee table's surface.

_Then maybe I should have left you to take care of it yourself_, she thought,_ if you _know_ so much_. She bit her tongue. She reminded herself that his actions had saved her life, and that earned him some leeway in her book. Some, not a lot. She sighed deeply. She could unleash her frustration on him after she had tended to his wounds. Felicia nodded even though she knew that he wasn't looking at her. "Roll over on your side," she said. She expected another condescending comment but received obedience instead. She finished the incision around his shoulder with the medical shears and sliced down to his waist along his back. Felicia immediately noticed the round puncture hole in the suit that she was certain lined up with the similar damage that she had observed on his front. _So what if he was right?_ She shook her head. Vengeance would have to be postponed. She snatched up the bottle of antiseptic and aligned bandages and medical tape on the table next to her. She poured out a generous amount of the liquid substance onto one of the towels that she had bunched up. She smiled to herself. _Maybe her revenge would be a bit more immediate than anticipated_. She poised her hand over the wound and smiled, "This might sting a little…"

* * *

Treating the injury had been a relatively painless process, so to speak. The Spider-man had drawn in several long breaths—through clenched teeth—throughout the application of the antiseptic, but the pain passed as quickly as it had come. Peter had followed the Cat's instructions wordlessly. Lying down, turning over, and sitting up at her direction. Both of the exit wounds had been cleaned, bandaged, and wrapped in a manner that, to Peter, seemed to be very professional. The Cat had gathered up her supplies as she stood. She told the Spider-man that she would return shortly.

"Do you have any water?" Peter asked. His mouth felt like cotton.

"Just ran out, actually."

He started to laugh but instead broke out into a coughing fit. Felicia took a step towards him and he stopped her by raising his hand. Once he had settled again he said, "Alcohol is fine, too. Whatever you got."

"Water it is then."

"Water it is," Peter added, "It was worth a shot." Felicia turned away to hide her smile. _Damn him_!

"I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder.

When she returned, the hero graciously accepted the glass from her hand. He timidly lifted the mask over his lips and drank deeply. He emptied the glass and quickly asked for another. Felicia brought back two. She found him sitting up, idly fingering her improvised patchwork. He was a strange sight. The bottom half of his face remained uncovered. The top left half of his trademark uniform was gone. His exposed, lightly tanned skin was marred by countless scars and his midsection was enveloped in peach-colored, wrap-around bandages. Short, light-brown stubble was beginning to darken his angular jaw. He rested his forearms on his knees, and lifted his masked gaze to Felicia as she walked towards him.

"That looks like it hurt," she said, handing him a glass. She nodded towards a blotch of skin that was lighter than the rest. The scar tissue resembled a fissure that ran from the side of his chest down to somewhere beneath the bandages.

Peter swallowed a mouthful of water before speaking. "My first fight," he chuckled. "I was just a kid in a Halloween costume then." Felicia nodded for him to continue.

"Purse-snatcher. I ran him down in some dead-end alley. He pulled a knife and I got too close," he gestured to the mark. "Lesson learned. Got the purse back, though. So it wasn't a total bust."

"Was she pretty?"

He roared with laughter then grasped at his side painfully. "She was seventy-eight! With liver-spotted skin and a hunched back!" He calmed down and continued, "Gave me a dollar for all of my trouble. Patted my cheek and walked away." He stared off at some point over her shoulder, lost in the memory.

Felicia took two steps closer to him. "That was really stupid, you know?" she said in a quiet voice.

"I know. I should have asked for at least enough money to replace my shirt."

"No," she said.

"No? I think that's reasonable. That was my favorite shi—"

"Stop it!" she said. "You're not listening to me!" Peter turned his head and met her eyes.

"I'm listening," he said.

"No, you're not. You're making stupid jokes and acting like this isn't at all a big deal." She twisted her hands together and started to pace before changing her mind and shifting her weight from leg to leg. "Can you just stop being…_you_ for a few minutes?"

He nodded.

She was silent for some moments before almost whispering, "Why did you do it? Why did you stay? Why did you…" she cast a sidelong glance at the bandages surrounding his abdomen. "Why did you do it, even after you knew it was a set-up?"

"Because everyone needs to be saved from something—sometimes even from themselves."

"I didn't deserve it. I _don't _deserve it. Not after what I did to you." He looked away from her and shrugged. She bent down so that she was eye-level with him, and steadied herself by placing her hands on the tops of his thighs. "Look at me," she pressed. "_Look at me_." He faced her, their noses only inches apart. "Why did you do it?"

"You really don't know?" Peter said.

"I want you to tell me."

The Spider-man let out a humorless laugh and threw up his arms in exasperation. The motion caused Felicia to back away slightly. "Because there's something wrong with me, OK?"

Felicia's eyebrows shot up. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I can't stop thinking about you, or that night," he said. "Or that…kiss," he whispered. Felicia wanted to tell him that she couldn't stop thinking about him either, or the kiss, but she sensed that he was not yet finished.

"There is something wrong with me because you're a criminal, and I'm supposed to catch criminals and not," he turned away from her again and she saw the muscles in his jaw clench. He turned back to her and finished, "And not fall in love with them."

Felicia did not move for a moment and then carefully replaced her hands on his thighs and knelt in between his legs. She gazed up at him and affectionately placed a hand on his cheek. "Then there is something wrong with me too," she said. She slid her hand from his cheek and grasped his right hand, placing it on her face. His index finger was brushing against the edge of her mask. Her hand was still cupping the outside of his fingers when she said, "I want you to know."

Peter understood her meaning, but he didn't know what it meant for the two of them. His fingers played with the corner of the mask near her temple. Finally, he grabbed her free hand and somewhat hesitantly placed it along the bottom of his own.

"No more masks tonight," he said, before leaning in and capturing her lips in a tentative kiss. Felicia arched into him—allaying all of his doubts. When they broke apart, their eyes remained firmly shut. Peter's hand tightened around the Cat's the moment he felt her begin to tug his mask upwards. Her hand stilled and moved again only after Peter lifted their hands and they pulled off the mask together. Peter's eyes remained shut even after he felt the cool air brush along his forehead and through his hair. He heard the Cat gasp, and thought that the revelation of his appearance must have disappointed her.

But when he opened his eyes, Felicia's hand was still on his face.

* * *

*throws up hands* Done! Finally! Please review!


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